The Longest Winter
by Brenana Nut Muffin
Summary: The oldest wounds are sometimes the most painful to reopen. Austria moves in with Prussia and Germany after WW1, but tension between Roderich and Gilbert may make one or the other crack. BL, Teen for mild violence/sex/language
1. Ch 1: The Last Leaf on the Tree

A heavy sigh left Roderich's slightly parted lips. "He's late..." he grumbled quietly to himself.

Drumming his fingers on the antique table, he filled his teacup with yet another round of Darjeeling, relying on it to keep him alive in the late hours of the night. He was never one to roam about after dark, a ridiculous pastime in his mind. If you have the energy, wake up nice and early so at least you can see something or other, as he viewed it. He glanced at the near-empty pot andscowled at the lack of tea.

'Why am I even doing this?' he questioned himself grimly. 'I'm wasting all of my fine tealeaves waiting on that dolt. ' He knew perfectly well, despite the voices that may have said otherwise.

"That Dolt" would saunter into the mansion, completely sloshed and chortle arm in arm with his stupid friends, their intoxicated voices booming through the empty halls. Since Roderich insisted on living in the room closest to the grand entrance, despite warnings from Ludwig**,** (The music room was so close, of course. How could he part with his precious piano and all the other lovely instruments? ) he could hear absolutely everything coming in and out of the great doors. Soaround 12:00 AM every night, his eyes would shoot open**,** and he would be unable to fall back asleep. He figured that if he's just going to get so rudely interrupted from his delicate sleep pattern, he might as well just let the stampede make its way through before "they" left, and "he" collapsed somewhere in the house in a snoring heap.

He looked out the window, gazing intently at the black night stretchingout before him, observing the trees in the front courtyard, their nearly bare shapes outlined by the light dully emanating from the estate. A few stubborn leaves flapped on the naked trees, desperately clinging on, refusing to accept the coming of winter. He focused on his reflection in the glass, looking world-weary and impatient.

A pair of headlights shone in the distance, advancing upon the gate shielding the villa from the rest of the world. A barely audible engine became gradually louder as it pulled in front of the mansion rather clumsily, breaking abruptly. Three silhouettes in the dark stumbled to the door and halted at the front, deciding to make a little more merry before parting.

It made Roderich sick.

He rose gracefully from his seat by the window and glided down the staircase, going straight into the music room, shutting the glass doors behind him with a loud clang. He refused to be in "That Dolt's" path of drunken destruction. He grabbed a sheet of music and shoved it on the piano stand, not quite caring at this point what it was, as long as it drowned out the idiots and lasted until the dust cleared. He cleared his throat and laying his outstretched fingers on the keys, he started playing. His hands danced up and down the ivory keys and he lost himself in the music completely, noticing for the first time what he was actually playing. It really was a lovely suite, Moonlight Sonata, one of Ludwig's, regrettably. The strict man never had time for music anymore (A pathetic excuse, if Roderich did say so himself) and didn't do Beethoven justice he so deserved. So, naturally, Roderich just had to have it for himself. The first movement was his personal favorite, its melancholy melody accompanied by deep minor chords struck a sort of unknown longing in his soul, even after the thousandth time he played it.

The page turned by an unknown hand**,** and Roderich plowed on for a few seconds before coming back to reality. Sheets of music didn't just turn themselves. He lifted his hands off of the piano and swung his head around, eyes directly meeting a pair of blood-red eyes. Immediately his stomach dropped. In his angered state, he forgot to lock the door.

Fantastic.

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_Hello There! Thank you for reading this in advance, I should upload the next chapter soon, and I apologize for taking so long to those of you that I promised a Prustria fic. '''orz Sorry, its kinda angsty, but I'll try to throw some more light-hearted moments, you'll see ;) Btw, I mean for this to be fairly historically accurate. If it isn't, I beg of you, PLEASE correct me, I will be more than happy to oblige (idk how I'll fit it into the story, but its good to know anyway). Constructive criticism and just plain ol' reviews in general are loved. _

_If you read my only other story ;;;_ /activeauthorfail, You might notice that this story and my other one intertwine a bit. _

_Really, I can't thank you people enough for reading this, and my other story. I'm new to this game still and and am being welcomed with open arms. Really, I was surprised to get any response whatsoever, let alone a decent amount of reviews and favorites and a couple author watches. *sentimental idiot*_

_Special Thanks to my Lovely Editor, Houdeanie Beanie_

_Enough of my jibber-jabber! See you next chapter!_

_DISCLAIMER: Might as well get this over with right off the bat. I do not own the characters, but I do own the plot and story. APH Belongs to Himaruya_


	2. Ch 2: The First Snowflake on the Ground

_Hey, there! Thank you in advance for reading the 2nd chapter of my 2nd fanfic! If you stopped halfway or less, well...at least you tried. I am soooooo sorry to anyone who might have been anticipating this, it has been hectic with so much testing and guh, no excuses. '''orz. I really like to nitpick on these and revise each one several times before releasing it, (Shout out to my somewhat willing editor, Houdeanie! Thanks for making this load of tripe into something readable 3 ) so that's another excuse for why it took so long. I really want to thank all the people who payed attention to this story. Honestly, just knowing it was on fanfic was enough to make me cry tears of joy. But to get some story/author alerts, favorites, and reviews!? omg, I just about jumped outta my skin, I was so filled with happiness. ;u; Please keep doing that for me, and I promise, I will continue. ( I'd do this whether anyone liked it or not, but that's not the point). Okay, no more rambling, thins is getting longer than the friggin' story. Thank you Thank you! Thank you!_

_**Disclaimers, because I can think of a lot of ways on how someone might get me in trouble: **This is boy's love. If you don't like it....why are you reading a Prustria fic? The characters and story belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. The fic is mine, however, so play fair please (: . I use country names and human names for characters for the sake of inconsistency. And umm....don't do drugs. _

_Okay I'll shut up now. _

* * *

The tall man chuckled, each breath exhaled smelling strongly of alcohol, and yet, he managed to keep his unwavering gaze locked on Austria. He in turn, shifted uncomfortably and moved to the other end of the piano bench, clearing his throat to break the awkward silence.

"I take it you enjoyed yourself," Roderich greeted sarcastically.

"It was okay. Nothing broken though, so a fairly unproductive night in my not so humble opinion," Prussia inquired lazily in response. "That song…."

"Piece of music, Gilbert," Austria corrected promptly.

Gilbert rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "Whatever."

There was a long pause. Prussia swayed toward the piano, his snow-white hair and ghostly pale skin catching the moonlight streaming through the window, giving him an ethereal, almost threatening look.

"It**'**s so…somber**,**" he finally stated.

Roderich raised an eyebrow, somewhat bemused.

"Well, of course it is, you dunce. It is one of Beethoven's most famous piano suites. Why would you expect anything less than emotionally moving art from-" he stopped himself from trailing off in front of the other man. "Why do you care?" he scoffed.

"I don't, really. But, I don't know…there is something there that's just powerful. Maybe it's the piece," he uttered as he lowered himself mere centimeters from Roderich's face. "…Or maybe it's the way its played," he suggested, his teeth shining through his mischievous half-grin.

"You are extremely drunk," Austria stated.

"Yea, I guess so…" he mumbled before trailing off.

Then, right on cue, Gilbert started to lean forward and fell face-flat on Roderich's old dress shoes, snoring away peacefully. Austria looked at the sleeping Prussian and heaved a world-weary sigh.

"Please get off, Gilbert."

No Response.

"Get off!" Roderich barked and poked Gilbert's face with his free foot to no avail. "At least drop dead somewhere more convenient, you twit!" he groaned as a last resort.

Unfortunately, Prussia was out cold and no amount of begging or prodding would make him stir. Austria looked at the Bavarian Cookoo Clock on the wall of the large music room. (Not in his taste, particularly, but Ludwig insisted on scattering them about the estate.) One o' clock in the morning was much too late to keep playing and to ignore the sleeping mass on the floor, and it seemed as though Gilbert's juvenile friends had dissipated to their little holes somewhere in Europe.

Roderich bent over, and with an exasperated grunt, he heaved the man off of the ground and heard the faint and sickening noise of his back making cracking noises. (He was really getting too old for this kind of slave labor.) More or less successful, he staggered out of the door with Gilbert in his arms. Good lord, he was heavier than he looked. Roderich looked down at Prussia's tilted head and gagged. His breath smelled very strongly of beer**. **Realizing that his grip of Gilbert was slipping, he attempted to hoist him upward into his chest more so he wouldn't fall. Not that he cared, really, but he was in the way.

Roderich overestimated his strength with the motion and slightly lost his balance. He spun ninety degrees and staggered to a stop, accidentally whacking Prussia's head on a neighboring wall corner. The drunkard's head shot up instantaneously.

"SHEIßE! WHAT THE FUCK is…" he screamed before sleep took over him again, and he was limp in Austria's arms once more.

Austria grinned an evil grin ever so slightly with a look in his eyes like, "Yea I hope that hurt, I totally did that on purpose." He had to carry Gilbert, not be Prince Charming. He wobbled down the hall and stopped in front of an unknown door, wheezing as he halted. ' There is no way I can make it to Gilbert's bedroom like this. Considering I don't care, and from the looks of it, neither does he, we won't be choosy.' He thought grimly and kicked the door open lightly with his foot.

The room was just as dark as the surrounding hall, if not darker, but Roderich could make out a bed with his poor vision and he promptly let go of Prussia. The sleeping albino limply flopped on, his head hitting the pillow. Austria let go a sigh of relief and pulled a blanket over Gilbert. He stirred in his sleep and nuzzled the pillow with his head in response. Gilbert's face was softly illuminated by the moon shining through the window once again and reflected his soft white hair that brushed his face.

Roderich had never really noticed it, but Gilbert had quite a peaceful expression with his eyes closed. Maybe it was because his fierce eyes were hidden, or maybe it was because his mouth was also closed. It was times like these that made it hard to believe that this man was the tyrannical leader of the most ruthless imperial power in Europe, and not just some narcissistic, washed-up dunce. Well, Gilbert managed to have the gift of acquiring both traits, apparently.

Austria turned to face the open door when a soft groan from the opposite direction interrupted his train of thought.

"Hey Specs….?" Prussia whispered slowly, clearly befuddled.

"Good Lord, WHAT?" Austria snapped in return, expecting some sort of drunken verbal abuse.

"…where-"

"I don't know and I don't particularly care. Some room of this blasted labyrinth you call a house. "

Gilbert closed his eyes and smiled. "You never change, do you?"

Instead of responding, Roderich decided to put on his best cynical glare. Unfortunately for him, his face was shrouded by the darkness of the room.

"Wha' s'matter? Cat got your tongue?" Gilbert mumbled and snickered at his own comment.

Attacking the weakened nationwould only lead to trouble for him later, (if Gilbert remembered anything, that is,) Roderich pursed his lips and stormed out the door.

"Um, thanks," the drunken man murmured quietly.

Austria stopped dead in his tracks and blinked in the darkness. "What?" he asked, flabbergasted.

"I said, er, thank you," he repeated quietly.

"Uh, well, if you caught a cold or something sleeping on the ground, I would never forgive you if you gave it to me," he replied uncertainly and walked out quickly.

"Yea, you'd never forgive me," he sighed silently when it was clear that Austria had left the room, and he closed his eyes.

* * * * * * * * *

"Great…" Austria groaned as he walked cautiously down the dark hallway. He turned a corner and another row of unfamiliar doors surrounded him. Being as he wasn't what one would call "navigationally gifted," the lack of visibility just added to his troubles.

He jerked his head from side-to-side, trying to find any sort of clue to as where he was. If only he reached the grand entrance, he would be fine, but in this darkness there seemed to be no sign of any hope whatsoever. He opened a door to complete darkness inside and closed it to try another door. He closed it and opened another. He closed and opened door after door in the long hallway, slamming each one shut more forcefully than the previous. He clenched his teeth and walked faster, looking behind his shoulder every so often.

'Roderich, you idiot, there is nothing to fear,' he reassured himself, however, he could not help but feel as though there was a presence behind him. He was at a brisk pace now, each set of doors rushing past him. His bated breath was the only thing echoing down the corridor, driving him mad with its increasing speed. A clock struck two and the noise of a disembodied grandfather clock rang through the halls. He suddenly broke into a sprint, grasping for a sense of sanity and panting. Whatever was in front of him didn't matter, and what was behind him, he dared not think about.

A spiral staircase blocked his path and he swept up the steps as quickly as his feet would take him. He slowed down and leaned against a wall facing a wide window. The moon skirted in and out of the clouds its cold light illuminated his face. Overcome with fatigue, he slid to the ground,and just before he lost consciousness, he thought he saw traces of the first snowfall fill the sky.

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_SHEIßE: Shit in German_

_The next chapter will be sooner, I promise! I already got a head start on it and I hope you will enjoy the next chapter, especially, if you didn't like this one. (Gimme another chance! D: ) _


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